


Safe Harbor

by Mizmak



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Declarations Of Love, First Kiss, Happy Ending, M/M, Short & Sweet, Sleeping Together, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-21
Updated: 2020-02-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:29:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22834819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mizmak/pseuds/Mizmak
Summary: Crowley yearned to take Aziraphale into his arms -- after the fire, after the storm, after nearly losing the world -- yet he held back, until the time came when he couldn't hold back any longer.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 137





	Safe Harbor

He barely held back the tears when he saw Aziraphale again, there in the bar – the other half of his soul that he’d believed to be gone, torn away in a torrent of fire. 

If he could have grabbed a transparent being in a tight embrace, Crowley would have done so, but then the angel was gone once more. And they had a world to save.

Adrenalin kept him going then, through the fire, through the storm, and all the way to the other side of the end of the world. To saving the world.

And Aziraphale was whole again, _real_ again. He had wanted to clasp him tightly then, too. But they still had dangers to deal with, and he was too exhausted from the fires he had battled, and so the moment passed.

So Crowley kept holding it all back, everything he wanted to say, everything he wanted to cling to. He held it all in. _Not until we are truly safe_.

Then they fooled Heaven and Hell – he put on the angel’s form, and he walked into the fire once more, and came out the other side – _free_. 

They laughed together then, and easily slid into their old manner. They strolled together through the park, and dined together at the Ritz, with a special champagne toast to the world they had helped to save.

When he looked into Aziraphale’s eyes then, he knew exactly which world he had saved – his own – his angel – the only world that mattered.

And if he could have pulled Aziraphale to him in that moment, and felt how _alive_ he was, and told him how loved he was, he would have. But the day had been long, the tension broken, and in the ease of knowing that they had time to be together, he relaxed. And the moment was lost.

They returned to the bookshop that evening, and resumed their old ways as if it were the simplest thing to lose everything only to find it whole again. Crowley sank onto the familiar sofa, and took the glass of wine that Aziraphale offered, and he drank…and he held back.

_You’re alive_ …that one holy refrain recurred as a steady backbeat in the rhythm of his love. _Alive…you’re alive…_ not lost, not gone from the world forever. 

Aziraphale sat in his familiar chair across from him, sipping his wine, and he looked at Crowley with that oh-so-treasured gentle smile, and those beautiful eyes alight with affection. 

_You’re alive_. 

Six thousand years. Crowley gazed at the angel with whom he had shared the Earth for six thousand years. His guiding light, his North Star, the beacon towards which he had set sail an eternity ago, drawing ever closer. 

His best friend.

_Lost in the fire, and now not lost, but alive._

_You’re alive._

He heard his own heartbeat match the meter of the song within his soul – a melody of loss and love, and of yearning – a refrain he had heard from the first day they met atop the wall of Eden. _Don’t ever go without returning. Don’t ever leave me here alone._

_Don’t tell me that I cannot love you._

He had been holding back for such a very long time.

Crowley watched Aziraphale as he drank the glass of wine, and imagined taking him in his arms. 

There had been too many years when they had been apart, and too many times when they had not been so easy with each other. 

There had been too many times when the angel had not been near, and yet Crowley had always known that Aziraphale was there on Earth, alive on Earth, and he had only to steer towards his light whenever he wished to come home.

But not that one time.

He watched Aziraphale sitting there, so very real. He saw the bookshop around them, so wonderfully restored. Then he remembered watching the fire take away his whole world.

He remembered how the light had gone out from his life.

He remembered how he’d been left rudderless, no chart to show the way, no port to give him shelter.

He remembered what it felt like to lose half his soul.

Crowley looked at the one being who made his existence complete. He finished the last of the wine and set his glass on the coffee table.

“Angel,” he said, as calmly as his heart would allow, “let me stay here tonight.”

He glanced upwards – upstairs to the living space where he knew there was a bedroom. “Please?”

In the silence of the momentary pause that followed, as Aziraphale looked at him with a gentle lifting of the eyebrows and a slight opening of the lips, in that moment when his friend could surely see the more far-reaching question behind the one asked, Crowley heard his heart beat only once.

“Yes.” Aziraphale’s expression relaxed. “Of course you can.”

He released a long-held and slightly shake breath. “Thanks.” It wasn’t late yet – the night had barely begun – but he felt as if he’d been awake for days and days. 

The strain must have shown in his face, as Aziraphale said softly, “Go ahead. I’ll be up in a little while.”

“All right.” _Don’t leave me alone_. He forced himself to get up off the sofa, to walk towards the stairs. 

He forced himself to not look back.

Crowley changed his black clothes into black pyjamas with a snap of his fingers. He climbed into the bed and was lost to sleep nearly as soon as his head rested on the pillow.

The only thing he could dream about was a flaming bookshop.

He struggled against the nightmare, strove to banish that loss. _Not again...don’t let me lose him again. Don’t leave me here alone._

Then his world shifted – in the dead of night, in the throes of a vision full of flame and sorrow and darkness, his mind suddenly stilled, as if everything that burned within him was washed away by a wave of love.

Even within the depths of slumber, he felt soothed, and calm, and far from alone. And he felt the pull of a wondrous light – the light of an angelic star calling to him in the night.

As he drifted out of the darkness towards the beacon that always brought him home, Crowley let the tears flow.

As he rose up from the darkness, away from the past, away from the pain and the terror of emptiness, he felt loved. And he let the tears come.

Not for loss, nor for loneliness – he did not cry because of the fear he had endured. 

Not for sorrow, nor for hurt – he didn’t cry because of the grief he had weathered.

Not in anger, and not in regret.

Crowley let the tears fall from joy. 

_You’re alive…and I love you._

_And I am loved._

He slowly opened his eyes. He lay on his back, and Aziraphale lay close, turned on his side, holding him, calming him, whispering into the dark.

“ _Hush my dear…it’s all right. I’m here_.”

His cheeks felt damp, and still he wept – simply because Aziraphale was _here_ , and there was no greater joy than that. He was here in light and life and love. He was here to guide Crowley home.

He felt angelic fingers caress his wet cheeks, and he kissed the fingertips as they brushed over his lips. 

He turned to look into his best friend’s eyes. _Angel._ He called him that not because that was what he was, but as an endearment, and they both knew it, yet this one time – this time when he would not hold back – not now, and not ever again – this time he needed to speak his name.

_“Aziraphale…_ ” A name, a world, and the other half of his soul. “Aziraphale, I love you.” His voice nearly broke, half-choked with tears. He swallowed, took a breath, and touched angelic lips. “I love you with all my heart.”

Aziraphale wiped the tears from Crowley’s face. “I love you, too, my dear.” Then he tightened his embrace, leaned in even closer, and kissed him.

It was only the lightest, softest of touches, but it was all he needed and more. He felt Aziraphale’s warm breath against his face, and he felt a different kind of fire then. Not the fire that destroyed, but the flame that created love, that united two souls together. 

“Why were you crying?” Aziraphale asked as the last of Crowley’s tears died away. “Was I the cause of that? I know I’ve said things – I know that I hurt you, and I’m so very sorry.”

“Hush.” It was his turn to calm, and to soothe. “It’s all right. I don’t think either of us was thinking all that well then.” He didn’t want to remember the bad times between them, only the good, which outweighed the bad by a million to one. “It wasn’t that.”

“Then why – a bad dream?”

“Almost.” He was determined to banish those images forever. “But it stopped when you held me.” 

Aziraphale kissed his forehead. “Then I suppose I’ll just have to keep holding you.”

“I’d like that.” _Hold on, and never hold back._ Crowley kissed Aziraphale’s lips once more, as lightly and easily as the first time. “They were for you. The tears, that is.” _Not because you were lost, but because you were found_. “Because you’re here. _Alive_.”

“I’m so sorry, my dear.” He stroked Crowley’s hair in a soft caress. “I’m sorry you had to watch the bookshop burn.” He left off caressing his hair and started a slow massage of Crowley’s chest. “I won’t leave you alone again.”

“No.” Crowley smiled. “I won’t let you.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

They held each other in the night, though Crowley didn’t feel the darkness at all. They loved each other with tender caresses, and light kisses, and the world returned to him a little bit more with every touch. 

As the night wore on, tiredness slowly stole upon them once more, and Aziraphale lay his head on Crowley’s chest, an arm wrapped round him, his breathing deep and even. 

“Go to sleep,” Aziraphale whispered. “I promise that all of your dreams will be pleasant.”

Crowley closed his eyes. “I know they will.” 

He thought perhaps he would dream about sailing on the seas of the world for six thousand years.

He thought perhaps he might dream of following an angel’s beacon.

For he knew that dream would be real – that he would draw ever closer to the light.

And he knew that he would reach a safe harbor at last.


End file.
